Tallisun: God of Ostara (Sons of Herne, #3)

by J. Rose Allister

  Curious despite herself, she stepped closer and reached out. He bent slightly to oblige her, and she gave an experimental tug. She frowned and pulled harder.

  “Oh my god,” she said, and after a pause, she yanked hard enough to jerk his head forward. “How are you doing this?”

  She dug through his golden hair, leaning closer, inspecting the area where the horns, antlers, whatever sat on his head. No, where they stuck out from his head. His scalp grew up over the first section of antler, hair and all, where it was wider at the base.

  His scent surrounded her, so male that her body felt more aware of him with each inhalation. The aroma of clover, dewy and fresh, assaulted her senses. His scent invoked memories of childhood, when days were spent lying on her back in the grass, watching clouds roll by while their shapes morphed into unicorns and princesses and brave knights galloping through the sky. He smelled like heaven. Masculine, take-her-to-the-edge heaven. She smelled of campfire smoke and dust, despite her impromptu—and apparently not private—bath.

  Harper glanced down to see that her rather thorough examination had brought Tallisuns’s eyes into very close range. He was staring almost through her with that smoldering, golden-brown gaze, and his irises twinkled with more than a little amusement.

  “They really don’t come off, do they?” she said, taking a step back. “You had them implanted surgically. Why?”

  “Not implanted. They grow this way naturally.” He pushed back the hair she had mussed while digging through the strands like a wild ape on a search for bugs. “Though if you were to pull on them like that tomorrow, after the ritual, they would come right off in your hands.”

  She nodded. “So they aren’t real, after all.”

  “They shed annually, just like the stag you saw by the lake. But they will begin growing back soon after.” He smiled. “So, have I proven myself?”

  She shook her head. “You haven’t proven anything other than you have a really good plastic surgeon and probably a lot of money.”

  “There is one other way.” He slipped a hand into the pocket of his pants, which couldn’t have been easy, considering how snug they were. He withdrew a long, scaly-looking object.

  She jumped back. “Is that a snake?” Snakes were not her favorite thing in all the world.

  “It is a pendant. The cord it is strung on resembles a serpent.”

  She looked closer. There was a cord, thick and black, engraved with a scale pattern. The head and tail met at the base, and dangling between was a peculiar gemstone. Or was it? She blinked, staring harder. The bluish-white stone seemed to pulse, blurring in and out of focus. It wasn’t her eyes, for everything else in her visual range stayed clear. But the gem...there was something unusual about it. Something not right.

  “This is a veil pendant,” he said, holding it up high so the gem hung within her eye line. “The crystal is unique, and not of this realm. Not exactly.”

  “Why does it seem...alive? It looks like it’s lit up and moving on the inside.”

  “The gem was fashioned from a piece of the veil that divides our worlds. Such crystals are rare and quite useful. They pulse at their own frequency, out of phase from this realm as well as the next. This is how I can travel between our worlds.” He paused. “And with it, I can walk in your realm without being seen.”

  He secured the pendant around his neck, waited until she met his eyes, and then grabbed hold of the stone with his bare hand. He winked out of existence.

  Her shriek was ragged and almost made her choke. “Tallisun?”

  “I am still here,” she heard, but the voice was not in front of her. She felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around to find nothing but empty air. Then he reappeared, and she jerked back.

  “How did you do that?” she asked. “Some kind of light-bending science? I’ve heard of cloaking suits that the government apparently invented.”

  “Let me show you something else.” He held out his hand. “Come, press yourself against me.”

  She fisted her hips. “Is this another ‘tug my horns’ thing?” The hoarse rattle gave away her discomfiture, and she cleared her throat.

  “I can show you the world,” he said. “But we must be in close enough contact.”

  “Show me the world?” she asked with a snort. “Okay, Aladdin. Get out the magic carpet.”

  She moved closer, not quite prepared for him to slide a hand around her waist and pull her against him. She let out a gasp as she collided against the hottest body she’d encountered up close, and not just from a temperature viewpoint. He fiddled with the pendant, lengthening the cord, and after draping it over her head as well, he put his arm back around her.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Not remotely.”

  He took hold of the pendant gem, and suddenly, the world shifted around her. She was no longer standing in the woods, hugged against the bare torso of a warm, muscular man. She was still tight against him, but they were standing in a bright room devoid of anything except gleaming white marble and elaborately carved, arched doorways in several places around the room. The ceiling was high, at least two stories, domed and lit from an unseen source around the inner ring. In the midst of the arches, swirling energies pulsed and shimmered, not like a mirror, but more like an upright sheet of water mingled with the stars of the Milky Way. The effect was much like that of gem lying against his chest, only thousands of times bigger.

  “Where are we?” she whispered, and the alarm in her tone echoed through the space.

  He put a finger to his lips and then bent to her ear. “We cannot be seen,” he murmured low, and her stomach tensed. “But we can be heard.”

  After another moment, he closed his eyes, took hold of the pendant again, and the room vanished. They were back at her campsite.

  He removed the cord from her and she slid away from him, staggering under a sudden wave of dizziness.

  “You may feel off balance for a few moments,” he said. “The effects of phasing rapidly between realms are more pronounced in humans.”

  She seriously challenged the idea that she would feel off balance for mere moments. She’d been shaken enough to tilt her equilibrium permanently.

  “Where were we just now?” she asked, doubting what she’d just seen.

  “A portal room in the Counsel of Sabbats,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you want anyone to hear us?”

  He shrugged. “I was expected back there some time earlier. I didn’t want to get waylaid and have to explain your presence as well. Humans from the earth realm are not exactly frequent visitors to the Counsel of Sabbats.”

  She stepped forward, still wobbling, and reached for the pendant. “I want to see it again. I promise I’ll be quiet.”

  He shook his head. “The point was for you to trust that I am telling the truth, and I can see that you believe me now.” He straightened his posture, raising himself another inch to his full height. “I am Tallisun, son of Herne. I am the god of Ostara, keeper of the pagan sabbat.”

  His gaze fastened to hers, and her racing heart joined forces with her light-headedness until the world spun around her. He was a god—a pagan god. She’d never given much thought to old world beliefs, nor to the fact that such beings actually might exist. But here he was, tall and mighty, with powerful antlers and eyes that had apparently not come from the Halloween collection of cosmetic lens wear.

  “I would choose you as my spring maiden, she who will partner with me for the ritual of renewal,” he went on. “Grant me your consent, Harper. Before the sun sets on tomorrow’s sabbat, we will celebrate a union of male and female.”

  She stiffened, and blinking proved harder considering her eyes had flown open so wide. “What kind of union between male and female?” she asked, though she already knew.

  There was that smile again, the one he undoubtedly used to sway all sorts of spring maidens into celebrating the wonders of uniting with a male.

  “I’m no maiden,” she said, wondering why
she was considering this.

  “Purity is not a requirement for this sabbat,” he said, and the smolder in his eyes burned hotter. “The title is merely an honorary one.”

  “You’ve done this a lot, I take it? Celebrated with spring maidens, I mean.” Not that it should matter. She wasn’t really going to take him up on it. Besides, as she’d just confessed, she wasn’t exactly the Mother Mary herself. Although, how long had it been since her last “ritual” with a guy? Six months?

  “The choice of partners has not been my own for many generations,” he said. “The sabbat maidens are normally selected for me by the Counsel.”

  Generations.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  That won her a grin that restarted the sense of disorientation that had barely begun to settle. “Do you fear that I am too young for a spring mating, or too old?”

  Mating. There it was, plain English from a man whose style of speech was something less than modern.

  Words dried on her tongue.

  “I can assure you I am quite in my prime.” He tilted his head. “And quite curious to experience a sabbat joining with a woman who would be fully appreciative of it.”

  Oh, she was appreciative of him, all right. Including the six-pack abs and the powerful legs.

  She shook her head.

  “You have no interest in my offer?” Doubt lay thick on his words. “Or perhaps you merely wish me to prove myself worthy.”

  She held up a hand. “I don’t need a demonstration or a measuring tape to make that judgment.”

  “Then let us engage in a contest more fitting to earn the respect of a hunter.”

  “You plan to show me your hunting skill?” She nodded to the rabbit meat nearby. “I’ve already brought home my supper.”

  “And what if the prey is a lovely maiden who is not yet certain she wants to be caught?”

  She wasn’t certain of that, no—nor was she sure she liked the sound of his suggestion. “What are you saying, exactly?”

  “I will hunt for you, and you will evade. If I succeed in catching you, you will grant me your consent.”

  “And if you don’t succeed?”

  He pursed his lips. “If you manage to evade me, doubtful though that may be, you are free to rebuff my offer.”

  “I’m free to do that anyway without agreeing to be chased around the woods first.”

  He nodded. “True. But this would be much more entertaining.”

  There was that. A god wanted to hunt her for the right to win her in bed. There was something thrilling and primal about that, she had to admit. Although a supernatural being would likely have an edge in contests with humans.

  “It’s getting dark,” she said. “I’m not sure I want to be running around the woods late at night.”

  “Then we will begin at dawn.”

  “How long would this challenge last?”

  He seemed to consider.

  “Let’s say two hours,” she went on before he could answer. “That’s the deadline.”

  “If you think it will take me that long,” he said, his eyes glittering with amusement.

  She ignored the comment. “What powers do you have that would give you unfair advantage?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Can you fly? Use X-ray vision?”

  He shrugged. “My senses are keen, and I am quick. Except when it matters to a mate,” he added with a lopsided grin that rubberized her knees.

  “I can be quick,” she said.

  He snorted, and a wave of irritation hit her.

  “You don’t think so?” she asked. “You think you’re a big bad hunter, while I’m the helpless little rabbit you intend to catch?”

  “Perhaps not a rabbit. Something more wily and valuable.”

  She made a face. “Then I have a proposal for you. I’ll agree to this game of yours on one condition. You won’t just be hunting me. We’ll hunt each other.”

  His brows rose. “Intriguing. Your terms?”

  He lifted her nose. “If you find me, I’ll surrender. But if I find you first, I choose whether or not to sleep with you.”

  He nodded. “Very similar to my terms. There is a chance I might win even if I lose.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” She took a step closer. “A woman scorned is a dangerous animal, god of Ostara, and you’re mocking my ability to hunt. You don’t think I can do it.”

  “You did blunder in front of my arrow and nearly plow down a stag.”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t hunting a really annoying stag who thinks I can’t track.” She held out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  He glanced at her hand.

  “We shake on it,” she went on. “Or is the great god of the sabbat afraid he’s all talk when it comes to women?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Afraid?”

  He reached out to take her hand, but she glanced at his chest and yanked hers back. “Wait a minute. You still have an advantage. That thing.” She nodded to the pendant. “You can make yourself invisible. That’s hardly fair.”

  He unfastened the pendant and started to slide it into his pocket, but she shook her head. “Uh-uh. You might put it on when I’m not looking.”

  “You doubt my sense of honor?”

  “I doubt your willingness to lose.”

  He paused. “Where might it be kept that it can’t be used to either of our advantage?”

  “Good point.” She eyed the gem. “We agree on a hunter’s honor to leave the pendant in my tent during the hunt. Neither of us will be allowed inside during the contest.”

  Now he held out his hand. “Agreed.”

  They shook on it, and the feel of his large, warm hand gripping hers set a swarm of flying monkeys loose in her stomach. She was really going to do this. She was going to hunt for the god of spring—and let him hunt for her.

  “Should you decide temptation is getting the better of you,” he said without releasing her hand, “you can always cut the hunt short by coming out in the open and calling for me.”

  “Spoken like a man who’s used to getting what he wants without having to work for it.” She pulled away. “Not a chance. This is a contest to prove your prowess, remember?”

  The answering gleam in his eyes almost made her regret taunting him.

  “And keep in mind,” she added, “surrendering yourself in hopes of buttering me up will wind up with you losing out.”

  He smiled. “I plan to make you work for the challenge as hard as you intend to drive me.”

  There was a subtle current of seduction mingled with a hint of threat in the words, and she suppressed a shudder.

  He inhaled thoughtfully, expanding an already broad chest that she wished she was still pressed against. “I suppose you should have your meal and get some sleep. You’ll need your energy to take to the woods with a god of the hunt.”

  “I thought you were the god of spring?”

  “And I am also my father’s son.”

  “What are you going to do in the meantime?” she asked.

  He shifted the quill on his back and glanced skyward. “I will stay and await the dawn.”

  “All night?” she asked in alarm.

  “I do not require sleep in the same manner that you do. But I should be glad of some meat. I might attempt a night hunt while you rest.”

  Show off, she thought.

  “Don’t be surprised if you lose,” she said.

  He held up the pendant. “Shall we go put this in your tent together?” he asked. “I will not require it again before our contest.”

  Her pulse sped. Go inside her tent with him, where she would be trapped between his scent, his hard body, and her sleeping cot?

  She was about to object when he winced. He grabbed hold of his chest and blew out a forceful breath.

  “What is it?” she asked in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  “I cannot stay,” he said. “I am being pulled back.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I will return.”r />
  Although the pendant still swung loose in his hand, Tallisun vanished.

  ***

  Tallisun paced around the chamber like a restless animal trapped in a cage. He had been drawn back to the Counsel some hours before, and now two of the members stared at him with dispassionate expressions and no sense of grasping what he was trying to say.

  “Can you not return the pendant now?” he asked, eying the cord gripped between Counselor Veramus’s bony fingers. “The hour grows late.” Quite late, as once he had been brought back and the pendant taken, he had been left in chambers while the counselors debated who knew what. He had to return in time to begin the hunt.

  “The hour had grown late some time ago,” said Counselor Veramus. “It is the eve of the sabbat. You were due here to begin the time of reflection and assess the potentials who have been chosen for you.”

  “I was off on a hunt to clear my thoughts, and something of interest happened.”

  “You were off pouting like a child, you mean,” said the other. Counselor Sandovar was the taller of the two, taller even that Tallisun, who himself rose to an impressive height. The two men wore the golden robes of the sabbat, for the official time of preparation was already counting down. Their hoods, however, would not be raised in deference until dawn rose on the actual day of the sabbat. When Tallisun had agreed to begin the hunt for Harper.

  Tallisun’s gaze narrowed as he regarded the man. “Do bear in mind who it is you are speaking to, Counselor.” He spat out the last as though it were an epithet.

  Sandovar gave a small nod of concession. “Indeed. Lord of the sabbat.”

  Tallisun’s clenched muscles relaxed a little. “It is not customary for counsel members to use the device to recall a god,” he said, feeling a flicker of irritation at this unnecessary delay. What if Harper thought he would not return?

  Sandovar gazed at him with pale and somewhat rheumy eyes. “You were missing.”

  “I was not truly missing. My father would not be pleased to hear you jumped his authority in using the veil beckon.”

  “Your father is the one who gave the command,” said Counselor Veramus. “He was not pleased to hear that the sabbat keeper could not be found on the eve of his duty. Especially after he was forced to turn down your attendance at the hunt in order to assure your timely presence.”